


Of Children and Kisses

by blueinkblot



Category: Peter Pan (2003)
Genre: F/M, It's okay though, slightly angsty, the children are missing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueinkblot/pseuds/blueinkblot
Summary: When Wendy, John, and Michael disappear from their bedroom one night, you and George learn why it was that the two of you fell in love with each other.





	1. Chapter 1

“Wendy cannot play pretend like this any longer!”  
“She’s a _girl_ , George! Just a girl! Let her tell her stories for just a while longer! Can’t you allow her that?”  
The rage burning in his eyes made you take a step back.  
“No,” he snarled, “because ‘just a while longer’ turns into ‘wait until she makes her debut’ turns into Wendy being a spinster living her life alone and done for.”  
You felt heat rising to your eyes and chest and had just opened your mouth to reply when -  
“Mother?”  
Three curious pairs of eyes peered at you from the doorway of the nursery and you felt your heart melt.  
“Hop into bed my dears,” you told them, glad to hear your voice soft as ever towards them, “I’ll be there to tuck you in in just a moment.”  
You shot your husband a sharp glare before sweeping into the children’s nursery.  
~~~  
“Mother, you look _lovely_.”  
“Well, thank you, Wendy.”  
You leaned over Michael’s bed and pulled the cover back, running your fingers through his hair before placing a kiss on his forehead. You moved over to John and did the same.  
“Mother, were you and Father fighting over me?” Wendy asked, blue eyes piercing you and holding you to the spot.  
“Yes,” you sighed, and she jerked back from your hand in surprise. “But it’s only because we have different ideas of what’s right for you.”  
“What did Father say?”  
“He wants you to move into your own room and begin to learn how to be a lady,” you told her, smoothing a hand over her hair and then over her cheek.  
“And what did you say?”  
“I said that I thought it was alright that you stay in the nursery for a while longer and tell your stories.”  
Her arms were suddenly around your middle. “I like your idea much better, Mother.”  
You chuckled and looked towards the window. “So do I, Wendy.” You sighed. “It’s hard to think of my little ones growing up.”  
You continued your pre-bed routine of turning down the lamps and lighting candles so that there was a nightlight if any of the children woke up during the night.

George was still standing at the top of the stairs once you left the nursery, and this time his sister Millicent was with him.  
“Millie,” you said, your voice cheery. “Thank you for coming to watch the children while George and I go out tonight.”  
“He was saying that you might not go…?” she started, looking between the two of you. “That you had an argument?”  
You glanced at George before returning your gaze to your sister-in-law’s face. “Merely a disagreement,” you told her. “Nothing we can’t handle.”  
George seemed surprised as you turned and placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, which was tight to his torso with the way his arms were folded. “Shall we? I’ve been meaning to call on Mrs. Haversham for some time now; hopefully she’ll forgive me.”  
~~~  
In the entrance hall to the gathering George looked down at you. “So… about the discussion - ”  
“We can have it later, Georgie,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “I know how important this is to you, and I don’t want to spoil it by making you upset in front of your bosses.”  
He blinked at you, then turned back towards his gathered coworkers. “Shall we?” he asked with a sigh, glancing at you.  
You nodded and let him lead you into the room in front of you.  
~~~  
The gathering had gone well, you’d thought, and George had even seemed happy as you went home.  
“It was like he’d forgotten, (y/n)! Just forgotten!”  
You pushed his glasses, which were slowly making their way down the bridge of his nose, back up with a finger and laughed. “It does seem like a pretty trivial thing over which to hold a grudge.”  
You listened on as George chattered happily about his interactions with his coworkers. You were quickly at home, and pushed open the door to your home to noise.  
“Oh! George, (y/n)!” Her hair was askew and eyes wide. “The children, they’re - ”  
She made a move towards the nursery and then turned back to you.  
She seemed to be unable to speak.  
“Millie, what happened to the children?”  
“They’re - there was a boy in their room, and a fairy - ”  
You and George looked at each other. If whatever the children had done had her so frazzled, then you had to go see what was going on.  
You dashed after George towards the nursery, and the door slammed against the wall as you both burst inside.  
You grabbed onto George’s hand as your knees nearly gave out at what you saw.  
The children’s beds were empty, and the curtains fluttered in the nighttime breeze coming in through the open window.


	2. Chapter 2

The dread in the pit of your stomach only grew the longer it had been since your children were found missing from their nursery. _But_ , your mind argued, _their nursery is on the second floor. How could they have been stolen from us without us knowing?_  
“(y/n)?”  
You lifted your head from the page you’d read six times already.  
“Anything?”  
Your eyes falling, and blinking away tears, you shook your head.  
Overall, the outing had gone quite smoothly, and any metaphorical feathers that had been ruffled by the incident at your home involving Nana and a freshly cleaned floor seemed to have been soothed. Past that, even, if George’s mood afterward was to be believed.  
“George, (y/n).”  
Millicent stood at the doorway to the nursery, voice soft and wringing her hands.  
“I’m so sorry. I should have been more alert - ”  
You crossed the room quickly, taking both of her hands in one of yours and lifting her chin with the other as a tear slid down her cheek.  
“There is nothing we can do now but wait,” you said, sliding your gaze to your husband’s face, “and perhaps, file a report with the police.”  
“I’ll do that, then,” George said, dashing from the room.  
Through a sob, Millicent chuckled. “Poor Georgie,” she said. “He never was good at expressing his feelings.”  
You let out a chuckle yourself. “No, Millie, but he does try.”  
You pulled the sheets and coverlet of Wendy’s bed back in a weak attempt to make it, then thought better of it. Would the children perhaps be tempted back home if their beds remained unmade?  
“(y/n), look at me,” Millicent murmured.  
You turned to face her, curiosity rising in you.  
“You have a hidden kiss,” she said, taking you by the chin and peering at the right corner of your mouth.  
“A _what_?”  
“A hidden kiss,” she repeated. “They’re rare - I never thought I’d see one, much less two.”  
She let go of your chin and you drifted over to a mirror. “Two?”  
“Yes. Wendy has one as well.”  
You didn’t see anything, but your gift had always been in telling stories. Perhaps Millicent’s was in seeing people’s magic.  
“Am I missing something?” George asked as he reentered the room, and you whirled away from the mirror.  
“No,” Millicent said, smiling at her brother as though she had a secret. “Just a little chatter.”  
“Well, whatever it was, you two seem in much better spirits,” he said, moving over towards you. “Chief Barkley is coming over to take statements, and they’re going to start an investigation.”  
He gave the two of you a stiff nod, then turned and left the room once again.  
You dropped your head into your hands. “Oh, Millie, what do I do?”  
“For now, sit and hope,” she said, rubbing your shoulders.

All you could do for the first couple of weeks after the children disappeared was sit in the nursery at the windowseat next to the open window.  
“She’s still there,” George remarked to Millicent from the doorway. Their voices were just murmurs to you and too indistinct to make out what they were saying.  
“She just lost all of her children, Georgie, be sympathetic.”  
“They’re my children as well,” George groused, folding his arms.  
“They are, indeed. But she stays home and takes care of them when you go to the bank.”  
“That’s not my fault.”  
“No, it’s not. But imagine what losing the children is doing to her when she gets to be around them all day.”  
George’s face fell.  
“(y/n)?” Millicent called, and you turned, eyes vacant and sad. “Let’s get some tea, yes?”  
You nodded, and your gaze fell to the floor.  
As the two of you passed him, George felt his heart clench at the sight of you so listless and your usual mirth gone from your face.  
Millicent gathered you up in her arms and ran her fingers up and down your arm. The rhythm was soothing, and you laid your head on her shoulder. Once the two of you arrived downstairs in the parlor, Millicent set you on a settee and draped a blanket around your shoulders.  
George sat down next to you and placed a hand on your knee. “Are you alright?”  
You looked up at him and he could see the glimmering beginnings of tears in your eyes. He took both of your hands in his and stroked your knuckles with his thumbs.  
“Everything’s going to be okay, (y/n). You’ll see.”  
Finally your eyes lifted from your lap and met his gaze. “You promise?” you said in a voice so quiet he barely heard it.  
“I promise,” he said. “They will come back, I know it.”


	3. Chapter 3

A month later, you were quietly lost in your thoughts in bed as George scoured the paper for news next to you.  
“Should we move on?”  
“Sorry?”  
His brows were drawn as he looked at you.  
“Should we - I don’t know - start the family again? Have more children, or - or adopt?”  
“(y/n), darling, where is this coming from?”  
“I just - ” You scrubbed your cheeks with a hand as the tears began to flow, “I miss them so much, George.”  
The paper rustled as it was cast aside, and suddenly you were being pulled into his chest. You hiccuped a sob as he ran his fingers through your hair and hushed your tears.  
“I know this isn’t what you might want to hear, but perhaps… it is time we move on?”  
You looked up and met his gaze, feeling fear seize you and suddenly feeling like a child again yourself. “George, what do you mean?”  
He sighed, looking at the window across from your bed. “Maybe it’s time we took some time just for us.”  
You nodded, sniffling.  
“I’ll see if I can’t get a couple of days off from the bank and we can just… spend them together.”  
You leaned into him, sighing as the sadness ebbed from you like the tide from the shore. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, George.”  
~~~  
It wasn’t a week later that you and George were strolling through the zoo together. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and you relished in the feeling of George’s arm under your hands.  
“It’s so beautiful out today,” you said, squinting at the nearly cloudless blue sky. You looked at him for a long moment. “Thank you for taking a day with me, George.”  
He looked down at you. “I’m glad I have the chance to spend it with you.” He ran a hand over his head. “Losing the children… it’s made me reevaluate what really matters.”  
Tears rose to your eyes.  
“Are you alright?”  
You laughed, dabbing at your eyes with his offered handkerchief. “Yes, yes, my love, everything’s fine! I just… that was profound.”  
He placed a hand under your chin and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Though the sun was already warm against your skin, you felt yourself growing warm from the inside out.

Around noon the two of you settled in a nearby park and unpacked the lunch you’d made. As you had been feeling serendipitous this morning, you’d used your cookie cutters to shape the sandwiches.  
When you unwrapped them, George’s eyes lit up and he burst into laughter, a sound you hadn’t heard in quite some time. You smiled in response and shoved a sandwich in his open mouth, feeling yourself glow again.  
Once the two of you finished lunch, you both laid back on the blanket and watched the clouds roll by.  
“That one looks like a rugby player.”  
You scoffed. “George, that is clearly a ballerina.”  
He looked at you with a scandalized expression and, after a moment, the two of you burst out laughing.  
“Now, that one’s a duck.”  
“A duck?!” you cried.  
“Yes. See, there’s the bill, and there’s the feet…”  
~~~  
That evening, when you got home, George began to lay out his clothing for work the next day.  
An idea popped into your head.  
“George, is there a stack of paper I might use?”  
He turned from choosing a tie to fix you with a stare. Not a rude or angry one; just a curious one.  
“Since the children aren’t around, I figured I might write down the stories I used to tell them. We could… make them into a book, or books, and we could sell them… Oh, or I could go to the hospital and read them to the children there!”  
George’s eyes lit up. “My darling, that’s genius,” he said, taking your hands in his own. “I’ll leave what you need at my desk tomorrow, alright?”  
You nodded, and then began to get ready for bed.  
~~~  
As you prepared breakfast the next morning, George noticed your smile and the extra spring in your step.  
“You’re excited,” he remarked.  
“I feel like I have a purpose again,” you said, “and it helps that it’s positively gorgeous out, I might take tea outside - ”  
“(y/n).”  
You froze in your tracks and met your husband’s gaze.  
“You have a purpose with or without children. You are a bright, creative woman, and I am proud to call you my wife.”  
You teared up and clapped a hand over your mouth before you threw your arms around George’s neck.  
He remained frozen for a moment before pulling you closer to him and pressing a kiss to your neck.  
The embrace stretched on until -   
“Dearest, what is the time?”  
You glanced at the clock in the hall. “8:40.”  
He jumped from his seat. “I need to hurry or else I’ll be late.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Your supplies are in my study, as promised.” He snatched up his briefcase and was out the door in a flash.  
You let out a happy sigh and then began to clear the breakfast dishes.  
~~~  
When George returned from work you had several pages filled with your handwriting laying around his study to dry the ink.  
“(y/n)?”  
“In your study, George!” you called back.  
He came in and stopped short in the doorway when he saw the pages. “You wrote all this?” he said, lifting one of the dry sheets.  
“Yes,” you told him, laying your head on his chest. He balanced the page on your head, and his arm moved as he adjusted his glasses. “Two and a half stories,” you added.  
“Wow,” he answered, laying the sheet back down and embracing you finally. “Maybe you’d read them to me?”  
“I could do that,” you said. “How was work today?”  
“It seems they got slightly behind on their accounting,” he said, his nails scratching your scalp as he combed his fingers through your hair. “But I righted things - and even put us ahead of schedule!”  
You patted his shoulder, voice softening as you felt fatigue begin to weigh on you. “Nice job George,” you said, a yawn forming from the end of your sentence.  
You could hear his heartbeat from where your head was on his chest and only felt yourself growing more drowsy.  
You felt George slide his hands down your arms, lay one of your hands on his shoulder, and clasp the other in his as he began to dance the two of you around the room and hum a song. You laughed at his actions and the sound of Nana’s tag jingling against her collar.  
With your head laid against his chest, you looked up at him. After a moment he looked down at you, pausing in humming as the two of you simply stared at one another for a long moment.  
“Let’s get you to bed,” George said, guiding you towards the staircase.  
“Did I tell you I’m going to the hospital tomorrow?” you murmured sleepily as he guided you upstairs. “I’m reading to the children.”  
Where George might ordinarily have been dismissive, he looked down at you with a smile. “That’s fantastic, darling. I’m glad that worked out for you.”  
“And you get to go be the hero at the bank!” You sighed happily.

Once upstairs, George helped you get into your nightclothes. You laid your head against his chest as he read more of “Dracula” to you and stroked your hair absentmindedly. His steady tone and the feeling of his fingers in your hair slowly sent you off to sleep.

~~~

George looked down at his wife’s sleeping figure. She seemed at peace when she wasn’t worried about the innumerable amount of things weighing on her mind.  
“Sleep well, my love,” he said, kissing her forehead and then placing the book on the side table nearest him.


End file.
